


But The Other Half Was Good

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, dark&twisty, re-post from 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: When she doesn’t show up for work one morning he knows it’s over. Knows this is it and there’s no need to ask Abbott to confirm his fears. Jane knows she doesn’t plan on coming back.And he feels like falling.





	But The Other Half Was Good

**Author's Note:**

> And a BIG special thank you goes to the wonderful clairebare for beta reading!

**But The Other Half Was Good**

**.**

**.**

He watches her from his place on his couch in the FBI bullpen.

She looks pale, even more then usual. He wants to ask her what’s wrong, but he’s sure she wouldn’t tell him the truth. So he keeps quiet.

When they’re on their way to a crime scene an hour later, she stares out of the window. Saying nothing at all, while Fisher rambles about a new case.

Jane tries his best to listen, his gaze still fixed on Lisbon. It’s like watching a car wreck, he just can’t get himself to look away.

The crime scene is a mess, too many cops, too nosy neighbors and far too much blood for his liking. He takes a look around, tries to memorize the gruesome sight in front of him without getting too close.

From the corner of his eye he spots Lisbon. She’s a few feet away from him and if he hadn’t known her so well, he’d say she was looking at the crime scene. But he knows better, knows that she’s not looking at all. Not seeing anything in front of her.

He says her name. Once, twice. Makes a step towards her. The second his fingertips touch the back of her hand she flinches.

When she looks up at him, her eyes are wide with fear, embarassment and hurt. He wants to say something, but before he gets the chance Fisher calls to him from the other end of the room.

He turns around instinctively and when he looks back at Lisbon, she’s already on her way out.

.

He’s not sure why he shows up at her hotel room in the middle of the night. They don’t do things like that. And they probably shouldn’t start now. But he knocks at her door anyway.

She opens up in her sleeping shirt, even paler than she’d been in the office. Her dark hair falls loosely in her face, dark circles under her eyes.

She asks him what he wants, her words slurred and her pupils dilated. He shrugs, not sure what to tell her, while he wonders how much alcohol she’s had.

He watches her shake her head slightly, before she turns around and stumbles back in the room. Jane closes the door before he follows. Takes in the sight of an almost empty bottle of bourbon on her nightstand and a broken glass on the floor. The bed sheets crinkled and halfway on the floor. A few clothes scattered across the room.

She asks him what he wants in her hotel room in the middle of the night. And he wants to tell her that he has no idea, but it’s not true. He knows exactly why he came here, knows exactly what he wants and when she turns around to look at him, he crushes his lips against hers.

She doesn’t fight him off, like he expected. Instead she throws her arms around his neck to pull him even closer and before he can stop himself, he has her pushed up against the nearest wall, her legs around his back.

It’s not how he imagined that moment. It’s far from that. He’d had years to fantasize. And he had. In every second he hadn’t been thinking about killing Red John, he’d thought about touching her in all those places he wasn’t allowed to. Tasting the forbidden fruit.

He’s not sure what makes him stop. Maybe it’s the way she pulls him so close it must be impossible for her to breathe. Maybe it’s the desperation in her hasty movements. Or maybe it’s the tears falling down her cheeks.

He pulls away from her instantly, ready to apologize. But she grabs the collar of his shirt. And for the first time ever, he hears Teresa Lisbon beg for something. Her voice barely above a whisper, when she tells him to do her. Right now. Right there. To make her feel alive again.

And he knows this isn’t about him. It’s not even about her. She’s just looking for an escape. And he can’t do this. Not even for her.

He tells her no. Tells her that he’s sorry, before he gives her a brief kiss on the forehead and leaves.

.

At first it looks like a bunch of coincidences.

Lisbon gets shot when they take down a murderer, but things like that happen. And as soon as the doctor explains she’s going to be fine, no one asks questions. She’s alive and that’s all that matters.

She drives an FBI car against a wall a few weeks later. It had been an accident, she followed a suspect when she lost control over the wheel. That’s what she tells them when she’s conscious again. The car is a wreck, but she has only a few scratches and everyone is too happy to bother questioning her.

It’s Jane who catches her in the last second, when she falls off a building while hunting down a child molester. And it’s the first time he spots the fury in her eyes.

He asks her about it, later that day when they’re back in the office. Asks her if she wanted to fall. If she wanted him to let go of her hand.

Lisbon brushes it off like she always does, tells him she’s fine and that there’s nothing to worry about. She sounds honest and he wonders when she got that good at lying.

It takes him a while to remember that he’d been teaching her.

He walks in on her in the office kitchen one night.

She’s kneeling on the floor next to a broken glass. And it takes him a moment to realize that there’s blood dripping from her wrist and another second to realize she holds one of the shards in her trembling fingers.

He grabs a kitchen towel and bends down beside her. Her eyes are filled with tears when she looks up at him. And she looks so lost. So broken, it nearly tears him apart.

He presses the towel on her bleeding wounds, while she asks him what’s wrong with her. And Jane wishes he knew, wishes he could give her an answer.

Wishes he had one for himself.

.

Lisbon passes out on a crime scene and Abbott puts her on desk duty. She doesn’t seem to mind, in fact Jane’s almost sure it’s what she planned all along.

When he walks in on her again, she’s in the copy room with Agent Walker.

The guy has her pushed up on the copying machine, his hands under her shirt and his lips pressed against hers. His body between her legs and it doesn’t need a psychic to know what’s going on.

Jane wants to turn around and walk back out, when he spots the emptiness in her eyes. Realizing she’s not even really there.

The next thing he knows he grabs Agent Walker by his jacket and shoves him back out of the room. He locks the door from the inside before he grabs her and shakes her.

She just looks up at him, her emerald green eyes filled with tears and he has no idea what to do. That’s not her anymore and he wonders if he ever knew her.

And he feels guilty. Horribly guilty, because there’s no doubt he had a big part in this.

He used her to get his revenge, used her for over a decade to keep him alive. And damn, even now he’s still using her. Never considered the fact that she might have other plans. Never gave her a choice.

In the end he pulls her into his arms while she sobs against his chest. And he wishes he could just stop being so fucking selfish.

.

When she doesn’t show up for work one morning he knows it’s over. Knows this is it and there’s no need to ask Abbott to confirm his fears. Jane knows she doesn’t plan on coming back.

And he feels like falling.

He’s in front of her hotel room half an hour later and has her pushed back against the wall the second she opens the door. Giving up all his defenses and taking her right then and there, like she wanted him too.

He stops thinking, his hands in her hair, his lips on hers. Clothes hastily shoved out of the way, both of them too needy to take the time.

It’s rushed and quick, her screams of pleasure dying on his lips when he takes her with him over the edge.

.

They sit side by side on the floor, their clothes rumpled, their hair tousled Her head against his chest, his hand holding hers.

She’s quiet for a long time before she tells him that she wishes Red John wasn’t dead. That she wishes he hadn’t killed him. That they were still in Sacramento, still working for the CBI.

He feels her tears soak his shirt and pulls her even closer when she starts to tremble in his arms.

He hates to admit it but he wishes the same. At least both of their lives had a purpose then.

**.**

**.**


End file.
